


Redemption

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Can't believe that needs to be a tag, Don’t copy to another site, Good Albus Dumbledore, Guilt, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: Based off a prompt on r/hpfanfiction: '2 years after the events of The Deathly Hallows, Draco keeps having bad dreams where Draco himself kills Dumbledore. He decides to go back to Hogwarts to make amends with Dumbledore's portrait.'
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Redemption

Redemption

  * **Harry Potter and all affiliated media is owned by J.K. Rowling.**
  * /+/+/+/+/



Draco was raised under a specific mindset. Raised to a particular set of standards. Raised to hold his head high under any circumstance.

But he could not help but flinch under the eyes of every person, portrait and ghost that stared at him as he followed Professor—no, _Headmistress—_ McGonagall to the— _her_ —office.

She, at least, did not look at him as if she wanted to wring his neck. She thought about it, no doubt, wished for it, but she had too much composure to allow him to see her innermost thoughts.

She was like his mother in that regard. Why had he never liked her when he went to Hogwarts?

"Godric," she said at a statue, which sank into the wall to reveal a set of stairs leading upwards.

Ah, right. Gryffindor.

She stepped aside, pinning him down with an impassive stare. "I shall not disturb you, Mr. Malfoy, but do bear in mind that I shall need my office back before sundown."

He nodded, beating down the urge to wet his lips. "I am aware. Thank you." She stared at him for another moment, before turning away, green cloak billowing after her.

Draco kept his eyes on the staircase, waiting. What...What the hell was he doing? He'd burned all his bridges. He wasn't wanted here. He could feel it. Not just from the people and things that inhabited the castle. Even the castle itself felt cold to him. Unwelcoming. Accusatory. So why—

Acid green light lit up in his mind. A kindly old man that only ever wanted to help others crashing into the ground below.

Gulping down a needy gasp, Draco hurried up the stairs.

Unlike what Potter— _Harry_ —and his followers— _friends_ —believed, Draco was a model student. He'd never spent much time in the Headmaster's— _Headmistress's_ —office. So he didn't really have any expectations when he crossed the threshold.

But he could still see. The place was in disarray. The only parts of the room that were familiar to him was the lone bookshelf at the far end of the room halfway filled with the deceased Profess— _Headmaster_ —Snape's favorite books from his old office. Everything else was...unknown to him.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy." Draco jumped at the old and wizened voice, turning around to see that which he'd forced himself to come back for.

Hanging on the wall to his left, a sizable portrait of Headmaster Dumbledore smiled down at him. As if nothing was wrong. As if Draco hadn't-

"Are you well?" the portrait leaned forward, and Draco willed himself to stay still (it couldn't touch him. Couldn't plead with him to stop what he was doing). "You look rather pale."

He gulped, "I-I am fine, H-Headmaster."

The portrait smiled, "Good. And your family? Minvera's been appraising me as to the well-being of my former students, but she is only one woman, and is so terribly busy now."

Draco held back a sob—was he doing this on purpose? His own twisted form of vengeance? But, ever dutiful, Draco answered, "They are well. My mother is well. My father..." he trailed off, clenching his fists. Though they'd escaped Hogwarts unscathed thanks to Potter- _Harry_ -the Wizarding World was not so quick as to forget his father's crimes (or his own). "...He is adjusting." He gulped, feeling the need to defend his parents, "But they are together. Happy."

"I am glad," the portrait smiled. "Your parents made a lovely couple during their final years at Hogwarts. It does me well to know their love still endures after these trying times." Draco waited for the former Headmaster to say something else, but he was content to just smile down at him.

Finally, it became too much. "How can you do it?!" he cried.

Dumbledore blinked, "Do what, Mr. Malfoy?"

"This!" he hissed, stepping forward and swiping at the air, "This..this farce?! How can you act so kind?! Act like you care after I...I..."

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster whispered, "why have you come here?"

Draco sobbed, curling in on himself. "I _killed_ you!"

"As I recall, that was Professor Sna-"

"He wouldn't have done it if not for me!" Draco cut him off, tears streaming down his face. "I bore the Dark Mark, I fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, I cursed innocent students, I led an army to destroy Hogwarts!" The Headmaster made to say something, but he barreled on, "I might not have cast the curse, but I as good as kill you! I see it clear enough in my dreams! My nightmares!" He fell down onto his knees, clutching his head. His fault.

"Mr. Malfoy."

It was all his fault.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Everything that happened.

"Mr. Malfoy."

All that blood was on his hands.

"Draco!"

He lifted his head up at the shout. But instead of righteous, just anger marring the Headmaster's face, he saw sadness, pity and....understanding.

"Oh, you poor boy." The Headmaster shook his head, "Well no, you're not a boy, are you? You're a man. Voldemort," Draco flinched, "did many terrible things, but he did not mark children. He saw no need in them. No, you were a man when you joined him."

Draco nodded jerkily, shivers running down his spine.

"Yes, you do bear blame for what has happened." Draco gasped, nodding once more. "But not all."

"What, no! No, it's all my-"

"I am not absolving you," Headmaster Dumbledore's stern voice froze him in place, "I cannot." Draco suspected as much, but he needed to hear it. "But I don't believe you are beyond redemption."

The young man stilled.

"You don't believe me. You think that your crime is so terrible, so horrific, that it shall haunt you forever." The Headmaster nodded, "Perhaps it shall. The consequences, I imagine, are ever present." They were. God above they were. "But you were just a small part of that dreadful equation. There were things beyond your grasp, beyond your understanding. Things you could not hope to understand, things you were thrust into with no care for your well-being. But there is one thing, I think, that speaks of a brighter future."

"What?" Draco begged.

"Guilt," the Headmaster intoned. "The knowledge that, in the end, you were wrong, and the consequences were not worth their price."

Draco was silent for a long moment. Then, he laughed. A bitter, mockery of laughter. "'Guilt'?" he sneered, " _That's_ your parting wisdom? I have guilt?!"

"Yes," the Headmaster said, unimpressed with his rage. "Otherwise, why come to me, the portrait of the man you killed?" Draco froze once more, his jeers dying on his lips.

The Headmaster sighed; lines being drawn on his face. "You are still young, Draco. There is still hope for you. Do not wallow in your guilt. Embrace it! Let it guide you to a more just path."

Draco sniffled, eyes pleading as he said, "I…I don't know if I can."

The Headmaster smiled once more—a genial, accepting thing—and said, "We never do. And yet, we must."

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**A/N: I wrote this for a prompt on r/hpfanfiction. Thought I’d put it out there. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


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